Sure As Hell Ain't Normal
by Keitorin Asthore
Summary: Modern AU. Hiccup was diagnosed with Crohn's disease when he was ten and life has been upside down since. Maybe the blonde girl in the room next door can help him make sense of things. Or maybe she'll make it even more confusing.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: How to Train Your Dragon belongs to Dreamworks, not me.

The original verse for this was created by writerforthetylwythteg and is used with permission. I think we share it now?

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><p>"...Hiccup!"<p>

He up with a start, blinking up at his mother's face. "Huh?" he said.

Valka frowned, touching his shoulder lightly. "I've been calling you for ten minutes," she said. "I just came to say goodnight. Are you feeling okay?"

Hiccup rubbed the side of his nose and looked blearily down at his slightly crumpled math homework. "I'm fine," he said. "Just tired. Really...really tired all of a sudden."

Valka's slight frown melted into concern. "You're sure you're all right?" she said. She touched his forehead, brushing his hair out of his eyes, and Hiccup leaned into the touch. "You feel a little warm."

"It's almost summer, Mom, it's just hot," Hiccup argued.

She kissed the top of his head. "I'll send your dad up with some Gatorade in a bit," she said. "Don't stay up too late, love. Get some sleep."

"I will, I just have to get my homework done," Hiccup said. "It's the last assignment before finals start."

Valka smiled. "I'm proud of you," she said. "But still, you should go to bed soon."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I love you."

"Love you too," Hiccup said absently as he double-checked his formula, already focusing on his homework as his mother slid out of his room and closed the door behind her. The noise woke up the small black cat sleeping on his pile of dirty laundry; Toothless stretched and padded over to him, jumping nimbly onto his desk and nosing at his papers. "Not now, Toothless. In a little bit."

Toothless huffed, nibbling at his ear, and settled down beside his desk lamp. Hiccup kept working on his math homework, occasionally mumbling to himself in frustration. He barely even noticed when his father came in and set a bottle of blue Gatorade at his elbow. Toothless noticed; he yowled at Stoick and purred in approval when he received a friendly scratch behind his ears.

An hour later Stoick came back. "Hiccup," he said. "Bed. Now."

"Dad, I'm almost done," Hiccup said.

Stoick scowled. "This is what you get for waiting till Sunday night to do your homework," he said. "Your mother's going to kill you."

"Last problem, last problem," Hiccup pleaded. He scribbled out the last solution and dropped his pencil, raising his hands in surrender. "Done! See? Done."

"Good," Stoick said sternly. "Drink your Gatorade and go to sleep."

"All right, all right," Hiccup sighed. "Fine."

Stoick patted him on the shoulder. "'Night, son," he said.

"Night," Hiccup echoed, twisting the top off the bottle and chugging it. Stoick nodded in approval and closed the door to his room. Hiccup finished off the bottle, screwing the lid back on and chucking it in the trash with the other two he'd had that day, and switched off his desk lamp before crawling into bed.

Toothless followed him, jumping onto the bed and curling up beside him. Hiccup petted him gently, swallowing back a yawn. "Night, bud," he said as Toothless pressed up against his chest. He appreciated the warmth. He'd lost so much weight in the past year that he couldn't keep warm on his own very well.

Despite how late it was and how tired he felt, he couldn't fall asleep. He felt strange, almost unsteady, like someone had loosened all his joints and tied his stomach in a knot. _Please don't let it be a flare up_, he thought as he pressed his head further into the depths of his pillow and forced himself to try to fall asleep. _I've gone three months without one, please don't be a flare up._

He jolted awake a few hours later, his head thick and his skin burning, to find himself overwhelmed with the buzzing feeling that he was about to throw up.

Hiccup fumbled in the dark for the trash can he kept beside his bed, knocking Toothless awake in his haste. The cat yowled, but Hiccup didn't have the energy to apologize. He pulled himself as close to the edge of his bed as he could and vomited into the trash can.

His throat burned. No matter how often it happened, he couldn't get used to this. Toothless meowed and batted at his arm in concern. Hiccup coughed again, spitting in the trash can, and his whole body froze as he tasted blood.

He forced himself upright and fumbled for the lamp on his bedside table, missing the first two tries, then gingerly touched the wet slickness at his lips. Dark red. Again.

He whimpered. Not again. He'd gone three months without a flare up. He thought he was getting better. He didn't want to be wrong.

The next bout of nausea gripped him so hard he nearly lost his balance, and he threw up all over his pillow. He could see the blood more clearly now, spattering across the striped sheets of his bed like some kind of damn crime scene, and panic made his heart stutter against his ribcage.

He crawled out of bed shakily, breathing slowly through his nose. The last time he had an episode he gave himself a panic attack, and he would rather die than have that happen again. He just needed to make it to his parents. Just a short walk down the hall. That was it.

The hallway was dark and he couldn't find the light switch. His pajama pants were too long and sagged around his narrow hips; he kept getting himself tangled up and had to catch himself along the wall more than a few times. The door to his parents' bedroom was cracked just enough that all he had to do was lean and he was there.

His parents were both asleep, dark shapes under the blankets of the bed, and the clock on his father's nightstand blinked a steady 3:18 in neon blue. Hiccup stumbled towards the safety of the bed, his whole body vibrating with the effort to keep himself together.

"Mom?" he whispered. "Hey, Mom?"

Valka woke quickly at the sound of his voice, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand and sitting up. "Hiccup?" she yawned. "What's wrong, sweetheart, bad dream?"

"Mom, I'm sick," he choked, and hot blood spilled down his chin.

In a split second Valka got out of bed, turned on the lights, and took him by the shoulders. "It's all right, it's all right," she soothed as she ran her fingers through his hair. "Just throwing up?"

He nodded, clamping his hands over his mouth as he fought down another wave of nausea. Valka tugged him over to the bed and made him sit down. "Stoick," she said, reaching around him to shake her husband's arm. "Stoick, wake up."

Hiccup sucked in a deep breath, swaying a little bit and closing his eyes. His head suddenly felt very heavy.

The next thing he knew his mother was beside him, holding his chin up. "No, no, no," she was saying in a firm, gentle voice. "No, baby, stay awake. Stay with me."

His tongue felt too thick for his mouth. "I don't feel good," he slurred.

"I know, baby," Valka soothed, running her hand up and down his bony back in a reassuring rhythm. "We're going to take you to the hospital."

The tears he'd been fighting back made his throat close up. "Mom, no," he pleaded. "No…"

"You're throwing up blood, we have to take you," Valka said. She hugged him tight, his cheek dropping to her shoulder in defeat. "Dad's getting your shoes and your hoodie and then we're going to take you straight to the hospital, okay?"

He hid his face in the crook of her neck. The last thing he wanted to do was go back to the hospital. "But I have finals next week," he said, his voice coming out smaller and more pitiful than he meant. Valka made a soft choking sound and held him tighter, pressing kisses to the top of his head.

"All right, son, you ready to go?" Stoick asked gently, dropping Hiccup's battered black converses on the floor. Hiccup nodded, unfolding himself stiffly from the safety of his mother's arms, and forced his feet into his shoes. Valka took his hoodie and held it out so he could slide his arms into the sleeves. "You'll be all right, son. We'll get you checked out and have you back home in no time."

His father sounded so sure, and Hiccup allowed himself to believe it. His legs felt weak and shaky, so he leaned against Valka as she kept her arm tight around his waist. The family dogs followed them around the darkened living room as Stoick searched for the car keys; his mother's beautiful husky Cloudjumper rubbed up affectionately against Hiccup's shins. Valka stroked the top of the dog's head, and for a second Hiccup thought he saw his mother's fingers tremble.

"Got the keys," Stoick said. He had the overnight bag slung over his broad shoulder, the one they kept in the hall closet for nights like this. "You all right, Hiccup? You need me to carry you?"

"'m okay," Hiccup said.

"Skullcrusher, stay in the house," Stoick said, nudging the German shepherd out of the garage as he unlocked the doors to the Suburban. Hiccup climbed into the backseat, his body trembling with the effort, and he sank back in relief as Valka sat down beside him.

She buckled him into the center seat without a word and settled him against her side. He tucked his legs up to his chest and huddled into her shoulder, pulling his hoodie tighter around himself. It was late April, but he was freezing.

Stoick backed the car out of the driveway and started on the well-traveled path to the hospital. Hiccup closed his eyes, fighting back the fresh resurgence of nausea boiling in the pit of his stomach. "Deep breaths, love," she murmured, stroking the back of his neck. "Deep breaths."

He obeyed, breathing against the hot pain shooting through his belly. All he wanted was to crawl into his own bed and go to sleep. But he couldn't sleep. Everything hurt too much. His whole body throbbed.

Halfway through the drive he forced himself away from the comfort of his mother's shoulder, his head spinning. "Gonna throw up," he gulped, his clenched fist pressing against his mouth. Valka picked up the small trashcan they kept in the backseat and held it for him. He closed his eyes and started to exhale slowly through his nose, hoping the feeling would pass, but he vomited anyway.

It was mostly blood again and it made his mouth burn. He turned away from the trashcan, wiping at his mouth in disgust. "All done?" Valka asked quietly. He nodded and she moved the trashcan back to the floor carefully. When she sat back up he leaned against her side again, swallowing hard against the hot coppery taste in his mouth. She was warm and comfortable and safe against him, and he wished he could just crawl into her lap like a little kid and hide forever.

They pulled up to the emergency room and Stoick parked as close as he could get. It was quiet, no ambulances zipping around or sirens blaring, and that was kind of a relief. Valka got out of the car first and helped Hiccup down. The cool night air pierced through the thin flannel of his pajama pants, and his hoodie wasn't much help either. A cold sweat began to prickle at his skin.

"You go get him signed in, I'll take care of him," Stoick said. Valka kissed Hiccup's cold cheek before taking the overnight bag and walking in ahead of them. Stoick put his arm around Hiccup's shoulders. "How are you feeling?"

He felt like he was about to crack into a million pieces and his insides were going to puddle on the pavement. "'m okay," he mumbled instead. He hunched over in pain, unable to stand up straight and walk like a normal human being, so all he could manage was an uneven hobble. Stoick kept his strides short, matching his slow pace.

"You're going to be all right," Stoick said gently, supporting Hiccup's weight as he stepped clumsily onto the curb. "You're strong. You're a fighter."

Hiccup didn't feel like a fighter, but his dad's words eased some of the clenching in his chest as they stepped through the sliding glass doors into the pale white light of the emergency room. The familiar sights and smells attacked him- the gray carpet, the off-white walls, the light blue scrubs of the nurses, the scent of antiseptic masking the sting of something thick and cloying. Hiccup bit back the sudden lump in his throat. He'd spent entire days of his life sitting in this emergency room. He didn't want to be here.

Valka walked over to them. "He's signed in," she said. She held the ID bracelet tape out; Hiccup reluctantly raised his left hand and let her fasten it around his wrist. "Hopefully we won't have to wait too long." She looked at Hiccup, her eyes softening. "Come here, baby."

He shuffled over to her and she led him to an empty seat. Immediately he laid down, pulling his hood over his ears and laying his head down on her lap. Valka stroked his side as he curled his knees and arms into his chest, protecting his sore stomach. The throbbing feeling had turned into a stabbing, vicious and hot, and he closed his eyes, hoping he could fall asleep.

Stoick sat down across from them and he could hear the low murmur of his parents talking in confidential tones. Hiccup blocked it out, focusing on the rhythmic feeling of his mother's hand against his side.

He tried to fall asleep, but the lights were too bright. The television on the wall opposite blared an 80s sitcom rerun. His stomach felt like it was on fire. He shifted around, a small noise of discomfort escaping his lips, and Valka pressed her hand against his heart.

Pressure was building in the pit of his stomach, twisting in his gut. "I have to go to the bathroom," he mumbled, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

"Are you going to be all right?" Valka asked.

He knew what she was really asking. "Think so," he said, catching his breath as the pain pressed down like an anvil in his lower belly. He wobbled a little as he got to his feet; his skin felt hot and cold at the same time and he knew his fever was starting to spike. Valka squeezed his hand.

He shuffled towards the small bathroom in the back of the ER, the pain in his gut growing stronger and stronger. The lights were off and he fumbled for the switch, wasting precious seconds looking for it. He whined through his teeth, the pressure building the point that he felt like he was going to explode, and then…

Something warm dripped down his leg and he took a step back.

He bit his lip, his body shuddering. "Fuck," he mumbled, pressing his forearm over his eyes. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_."

He hadn't had an accident in a long time. Then again, he hadn't had any symptoms in a while. But this was the last thing he wanted.

Hiccup stood in the middle of the bathroom, fluorescent lights glaring at him, unable to move. The fabric of his pajama pants was soaked and sticking to his legs. He didn't want to leave the bathroom like this, but he couldn't stay here either. He closed his eyes, his shoulders heaving, but he didn't make a sound.

There was a light knock on the door and he flinched. "Hiccup?" his mother called softly. "I'm just making sure you're okay."

He hesitated, then leaned over and unlocked the door. "You can come in," he said, his voice thick. Valka opened the door tentatively and all it took was one look at his face, his lips pressed together and his eyes red, and he knew she knew what had happened.

"Oh, sweetheart," she said. She squeezed his arm gently. "I'll grab your bag and be right back, okay?"

He nodded, tears burning behind his eyes as she left. He was fifteen, he shouldn't be shitting himself in a hospital bathroom and waiting for his mom to help him get cleaned up. But he wanted his mother there, despite his embarrassment; he wanted her to swoop in and fix everything like she could when he was little and he'd done something as simple as scraping his knee.

Valka walked back in with his overnight bag and closed the door behind her. He toed off his shoes, his bare feet curling at the cold tile floor, and peeled his wet pajama pants off. Valka turned around, rifling through his bag to find his clothes, and he ran a paper towel under the faucet to clean himself up.

He threw his dirty clothes away, slamming the pajama pants into the trash can with more force than necessary, and took the pair of boxer briefs and sweatpants his mother had silently set aside. It was reassuring to be dressed in clean dry clothes again. It made him feel human.

He turned back slowly to his mother, looking up into her face. Her long dark hair was braided over her shoulder, still mussed from sleep, and she was wearing an old fawn-colored sweater that he remembered from his childhood as something soft and comforting and perpetually associated with _mommy _and _safe _and _home. _"Better, love?" she asked quietly.

He nodded, and his chin trembled as a rebellious tear escaped. Valka pulled him into a hug and he buried himself in the soft depths of her arms, muffling his sobs in her collarbone. "It's all right, baby," she murmured into his hair. He swallowed hard, choking on a sob, and pressed his cheek into the softness of her old sweater. "It's all right. Don't cry."

He cried for a little bit, out of pain and frustration and the sheer injustice of it all, and Valka held him tightly. At last he pulled back, dashing at his damp eyes with the heels of his palms, and Valka kept her hands secure on his upper arms. "I won't tell Dad," she said. "It's between you and me, all right?"

"Won't he notice I've changed clothes?" he hiccupped.

Valka smiled. "This is your dad we're talking about, love, he won't notice a thing," she reassured him. She cupped his chin in her hands. "You ready to go back?"

He nodded, taking a deep steadying breath, and she kissed his forehead. She paused. "Your fever's gone up," she said. He raised and lowered his shoulders apathetically. "Come on, let's get you comfortable."

He followed her back into the waiting room, holding her hand and allowing her to lead him like a child. She sat down and waited for him to sit beside her, but instead he sank down on her lap and curled up against her, his head on her shoulder. Without missing a beat she curved her arms around him to hold him close.

Stoick was jiggling his leg in the seat opposite them, scanning the waiting room. "Feeling all right, son?" he asked, somewhat absently.

He nodded against his mother's neck. "He just needs to see the doctor," Valka said. "Do you think we'll have to wait for much longer? Stoick, maybe you should talk to someone."

Stoick drummed his fingers impatiently against the armrest. "That guy came in after us, and they're already taking him back," he said, pushing himself to his feet. "That's not fair. I'm going to take care of this."

"Stoick, don't do anything rash," Valka warned. Hiccup closed his eyes. There had been more than a few times during his previous hospital stays that his father had gone off on someone, and as much as he didn't like watching Stoick's temper in action, it was useful. Especially in those early days, when they didn't have a diagnosis and he kept going to the emergency room only to be sent home because it was "just a stomachache" or "just a virus." His father had fought for him. And he appreciated it.

Hiccup shifted on his mother's lap, his thin legs stretched out over the seats. Valka stroked his hair back from his hot forehead and patted her hand absently against his hip. His stomach felt hard and swollen, like a balloon filled too full, and he wished he could just sleep through the pain and wake up feeling like a normal person again.

Stoick strode over to them, his hands clenched in massive fists at his sides, and knelt down in front of Hiccup. "They've moved you up and they're going to take a look at you now," he said. "Can you walk, son?"

Hiccup struggled to sit up, but before he could try to stand Stoick picked him up, as easily as he did when he was a baby. He rested his chin on his father's broad shoulder and closed his eyes as he carried him into the triage room and set him down carefully on the examination table. The thin crisp layer of paper underneath him crinkled, setting his teeth on edge. He resisted the urge to curl up in a tight ball, to clench against the pressure gripping his belly.

"All right, so what seems to be the problem tonight?" the nurse asked, prepping Hiccup's paperwork.

Valka sat down beside him, wrapping her fingers around his limp hand and giving him a reassuring smile. "He woke up two hours ago throwing up blood," Stoick said, his arms crossed over his chest. In his rumpled black tee shirt and his wild red hair tied in a short ponytail, he looked like a force to be reckoned with. "He's in a lot of pain and he's running a fever."

"He has Crohn's disease," Valka explained. "He was diagnosed when he was ten."

Hiccup submitted himself to the nurse checking him over, taking his temperature and his blood pressure. "When was the last time he vomited?" she asked.

"About forty minutes ago, in the car on the way over," Valka said, rubbing Hiccup's fingers.

Without warning the nurse lifted up the hem of his shirt and his hoodie and pressed lightly at his belly. Hiccup jerked up, clutching his mother's hand and yelping. Stoick took a step towards him. "It's okay, it's okay," Valka murmured, holding his hand to her heart.

Pain radiated through his body and he sank back, zoning out. His head spun and he felt like he might be about to throw up again. He tried to say something, but all that came out of his mouth was a faint moan. The only thing grounding him was his mother's grip on his hand.

He slowly faded back into himself, the roaring noise in his ears turning back into conversation. "...it's best if we go ahead and admit him right now," the nurse was saying.

"Shouldn't he get a CT scan?" Stoick said. "What if it's not a normal flareup?"

The nurse shifted her weight in irritation. "We'll monitor him," she said. "If we see signs that it's something worse, we'll check him out."

Hiccup turned to Valka as his father argued with the nurse. "Mom, don't make me stay," he whispered.

Valka's eyes were soft. "I know you don't want to be here, baby, but you're sick," she said. "You have a fever of 103 and you're dehydrated." She kissed his knuckles. "As soon as you're well enough to take you home we will, I promise."

He didn't want a promise, he wanted to go home _now_.

"Mom, please," he begged, and Valka shook her head.

"We'll put in for his room and get an IV started," the nurse said, picking up Hiccup's file. "I'll be right back."

Stoick glared at the nurse as she left. "He ought to get a CT scan," he grumbled.

"Stoick, hush," Valka said, placing a calming hand on her husband's broad arm. He grunted, but some of the fire left his eyes. "Hiccup, sweetheart, can you sit up for me?"

He struggled to obey, his arms wobbling under his weight. Valka unzipped his hoodie and slid it off. His bare skin broke into a prickling cold sweat, even though the rest of him was felt hot and crawling. He closed his eyes. The sudden jolt in temperature was making him feel nauseated again.

A different nurse came in with a small rolling cart. "Hi, there," she said. She picked up Hiccup's wrist, double checking the name. "We're going to get you set up with an IV, okay?"

Hiccup sighed heavily as he leaned back against the examination table, his right arm limp as he waited. He knew the drill- the IV, the shot of painkillers, the shot of the anti-emetic, the shot of Ativan if he got too jittery. Then he'd conk out and they'd move him up to pediatrics, and he'd wake up in a miserable haze, unsure of where he was or how he got there.

Not this time. This time he was going to stay awake.

The nurse took his arm and swabbed the back of his hand with an alcohol patch. "You've got to stop shaking," she said briskly. "I don't want to nick your vein."

"He's just got chills," Valka said. She stood behind Hiccup, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and collarbone. He leaned back against her warmth, trying to still the tremors in his body.

"Make a fist for me," the nurse said. "You're going to feel a big stick...there we go."

He closed his eyes as the needle pierced his skin. He'd had dozens of IVs before, but he never got used to the creepy feeling of cool saline running into his blood. Valka kissed the top of his head, resting her cheek against his hair. Despite the reassurance of her arms around him he was still shaking, fighting off the icy sweat that drenched his skin. He felt hot and cold all over, and his stomach felt like it was turning inside out.

"All right, sweetie, we've got three shots," the nurse said. She swabbed down his upper arm with the cold alcohol patch. "Hold still for me."

He let his arm dangle limply in the nurse's grip as she set the first syringe to his skin. Shots didn't scare him anymore, but he still flinched as it pierced him. His mother hid her face in his hair as the nurse prepared the second shot; Hiccup squeezed her forearm. "It's okay, Mom, it doesn't hurt," he said. It did hurt, but he didn't want her to know that.

The nurse finished the third injection and swabbed the drops of blood away. "There you go," she said. "Now we're just waiting on a room for you. Let us know if you're still in pain; we can give you more Dilaudid."

He nodded, already beginning to feel fuzzy around the edges. _Don't fall asleep_, he told himself sternly.

"How're you feeling?" Stoick asked as the nurse let herself out. "One to ten."

"Six," Hiccup lied, gripping his mother's arms in an attempt to steady himself. The room wavered around him like he was seasick, but he was pretty sure he wasn't moving.

He knew his parents could see through the lie, but he wasn't going to budge. Valka kissed his temple. "Do you want to lie down and go to sleep?" she asked. "You'll feel better."

He shook his head. "I don't want to," he said.

"You always get so tired after your injections," Valka reminded him. "And it's five in the morning, sweetheart, you need to get some rest."

"I don't want to sleep!" he burst out. "Leave me alone!"

"Hiccup Haddock," Stoick warned, but he caught the expression on his son's face. Hiccup ducked his head, trying to hide. "Son."

Hiccup kept his head down, his chin tipped against the soft warmth of his mother's arms wrapped around his shoulders. "I don't like falling asleep in triage," he said in a low voice. "Every time I fall asleep down here and wake up in my hospital room, and it freaks me out."

Stoick squeezed his knee. "All right, son," he said gently. "All right. But no more snapping at your mother, understand?"

"Okay," Hiccup said. His chin was still resting against Valka's forearms folded over his chest; he turned his head enough to press a small penitent kiss to the crook of her elbow. "I'm sorry, Mom."

She said nothing, just swept his hair back from his hot forehead and hugged him tighter. Valka wasn't always the best with words, but he knew he was forgiven.

Exhaustion tugged at the edges of his vision, making everything blur and fade around him. He gritted his teeth, fighting the wooziness that pushed him down and flattened him out. Nausea still churned in his gut and his blood felt cool and clammy where the IV pumped saline solution. He just had to make it long enough to get to his room, so when he woke up the next day he didn't have to wonder where he was or how he got there.

His body felt torn between burning up and shaking from the cold. Even with his mother holding him he felt half-frozen, and somewhere deep inside he felt like he was on fire. His skin crawled and his brain tried to tell him the ceiling was turning green. This was the worst. This was the part he hated the most about these never ending emergency room visits.

It seemed like a decade passed before a nurse- a third one- came in with a wheelchair. "All right, we're ready for you," she said, far too cheerful for five-thirty in the morning. "Let's get you up."

His joints ached as he struggled to unfold himself from his crunched ball on the examination table; he could practically hear the tendons creaking. Stoick cupped his large hands under his skinny forearms and helped him slide down from the table while Valka kept her hand on his back. The room whipped around him like a tilt-a-whirl and dizzying white stars crept along the fuzzy edges of his vision. He wanted to cry, but he was too tired.

He sagged back in the wheelchair, struggling to hang on to the last vestiges of consciousness as the nurse transferred the IV bag. His mother said something and he tried to answer, but apparently the sound that came out wasn't actual words, because she suddenly looked worried and reached for his hand. He tried to squeeze her fingers to reassure her that he was fine, that the hands of the clock on the wall above him weren't suddenly spinning backwards, but his knuckles didn't work anymore.

He faded in and out as they wheeled him out of triage and into the elevator, catching glimpses of the pale gray walls and paler gray floor. The inside of the elevator smelled like warm metal and antiseptic, stinging his nose and waking him up just enough for him to blink slowly at his reflection in the shiny doors. He looked terrible, his mouth slack and his eyes drooping, and he would have closed his eyes if he wasn't so sure that he would fall asleep immediately.

Pediatrics was grimly cheerful as always. The walls were painted yellow and the nurse at the reception desk wore scrubs with cartoon characters on them, but it was still a hospital, still a place where kids were sick and hurt and dying.

The nurse propelled him into a small room with one bed, the beginning of a sunrise peeking through the blinds. "Let's get you up," she said briskly, but Stoick reached down without a word and scooped him up like he was still little, careful of the IV, and then placed him down gently on the bed. Hiccup sagged into the stiff mattress, his head falling back against the pillow.

Valka tucked him in, smoothing the stiff sheets and the scratchy blanket around him like he was in his own bed at home, and not in the pediatrics ward for the fourth time in the past year. The IV tubing taped to his arm shifted as the nurse moved the bag and a startled whimper broke from his lips. Valka pulled the soft microfleece blanket out of his overnight bag, his favorite one with the green stripes that smelled like home, and draped it around him. "Please go to sleep, sweetheart," she urged.

He nodded, his eyes sliding shut. The last things he remembered were his father's hand squeezing his arm and his mother's lips touching his cheek.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

OOPS MY HAND SLIPPED.

Okay, so Caroline (writerforthetylwythteg) created a universe where Hiccup and Astrid are both chronically ill and become friends in the hospital. And specifically Hiccup has Crohn's disease, which is similar to a plotline I used to write for my other fandom, and so...40 pages of this happened. Luckily, not only did Caroline give permission for me to post, but she loves it and gave me more plot bunnies, and we've become friends! So you can expect more of this to come.

Feel free to share your thoughts on this! I love hearing from people and making new friends! And my tumblr is themetaphorgirl if you'd like to chat with me there. And feel free to ask me questions over there too!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: How to Train Your Dragon belongs to Dreamworks, not me.

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><p>Hiccup slept until ten in the morning, and honestly he only woke up because he had to go to the bathroom. It was an arduous process of crawling out of bed, dragging his IV pole along with him, and shuffling stiffly along the cold tile floor, but at least he made it. The pediatric wing was set up as small private rooms with a shared bathroom between them; he only hoped the room next door was vacant so he didn't have to deal with sharing.<p>

He hobbled back to bed, shivering against the cold dry air. and crawled back under the stiff sheets and the soft blanket from home. His parents had unpacked his bag and set up the room for him like they usually did- the framed family photo on the nightstand, his kindle and his Nintendo DS set up beside it with the chargers laid beside them neatly, the battered pack of playing cards and the CD wallet full of movies, the small stuffed dragon his mother made for him when he was three propped up beside his pillow. It was both comforting to be surrounded by home, and frustrating to know that he was sick enough that his parents kept a bag ready and waiting with those things packed up, just in case there was an emergency.

There was a note, too, and he picked it up to read it even though he knew exactly what it was going to say. In his father's blocky print and his mother's spidery cursive they told him they were going to work, they'd be back to visit soon, they loved him very much. They always left a note if they left while he was sleeping. There wasn't a need for it- he knew they had to work- but it was reassuring to see it there nonetheless.

He had two more bathroom breaks in the next hour, fighting off the cold tremors that ran through his body every time he forced him to climb out of the warm nest of his bed. His joints ached, creaking in protest with every move he made. He missed the comforting warmth of his hoodie, but there was no way he could put it on with the IV still taped to his inner arm. At least they let him wear his own pajamas.

A nurse came through on her rounds to check on him- bring him lunch, take his temperature, set up a new IV. She asked him how bad the pain was ("like a four," he lied, and she seemed pleased) and gave him another shot of Dilaudid. Best of all, she told him that if his fever went down and he could go twenty-four hours without vomiting, he could go home. He could do that. He could definitely do that.

It was after he had settled himself back into bed after his third bathroom break, his stomach tight and his body raw and frozen, that his next door neighbor stormed in.

He nearly dropped his kindle as a blonde girl, dressed in navy sweatpants with her hair braided neatly over her shoulder, stomped into his room. "Hi, there," she said, marching over to him. "I'm sharing your bathroom, and just so you know, you are spending _way _too much time in there. You're not the only person using it. I just had to wait fifteen minutes so I could pee."

Hiccup blinked. "I'm sorry?" he said, not sure if he should actually apologize or just let her yell for a bit.

She put her hands on her hips and exhaled deeply in an attempt to slow her temper, but it did very little at all. "Look, I'm sorry for running in here uninvited, but I'm going a little stir crazy," she said. "I've been here for a week, and they've been running a million tests on me, and I'm extremely stressed."

Hiccup's mouth thinned. "You're stressed?" he said. "Oh. Sorry. Didn't know you were hospitalized for _stress_."

"It's not stress, it's-" She huffed again, waving her hand dismissively. "Never mind. What are you in here for?"

"Crohn's."

She scowled. "What?"

"Crohn's disease," he repeated, looking at her over the lit screen of his kindle. "It basically means that when I'm not shitting my brains out, I'm throwing them up."

"Oh," the girl said. He waited, and the light of recognition dawned in her eyes. "Oh! I'm so sorry. I'm really sorry. It's just that I have two older brothers who hog my bathroom at home, and I totally know what they're doing in there, and I just...I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Hiccup said hastily, an embarrassed blush creeping up the back of his neck. "Don't worry about it."

She shifted her weight anxiously from foot to foot. "I'm Astrid Hofferson," she said. "And I guess you're-" She looked down at the ID bracelet on his wrist, started to say something, and did a doubletake. "Hadley Haddock?"

The blush on his neck flared over his cheeks in a color so bright he could feel it. "It's a family name and it's stupid," he said. "Hiccup. Just call me Hiccup."

She frowned. "And that's...better?" she said.

"Well, it's better than Hadley, and my dad started calling that when I was a baby because I was early and super small, and it just kind of stuck, and-" He cleared his throat. "So, uh...you're in for tests?"

Astrid sat down on the edge of his bed. "I've been having really bad headaches for a while," she said. "My mom kept telling me to drink more water and stop reading late at night without enough light, but that didn't help. Then the other day I blacked out in the middle of a volleyball game and had a seizure. A big one. Everybody freaked out, they called an ambulance...they've been running tests ever since." She grinned. "I'm the new school celebrity."

"Nice," Hiccup said.

Astrid spotted the pack of cards on his bedside table and picked them up. "Can we play?" she said. "I'm so bored."

"Sure," he shrugged. "What do you want to play?"

"You know ratslap?" she asked. He nodded, and she started dealing out cards. "So you're in here because that Crohn's disease thing?"

"Yeah," he said. "I was throwing up blood again."

Astrid stared at him in horror. "Throwing up blood?" she repeated. "Again? That's a thing?"

"Well, yeah," he said. "Third time this year, actually." Astrid frowned as she handed him his stack of cards. "That's the thing with Crohn's, it never goes away. I'll be fine for a few months, and then all of a sudden I'm stuck in the hospital for two weeks." He tapped his stack of cards on his knee to even them out. "So are you going to start, or me?"

She placed down her first card. "How long have you been sick?" she asked.

"Since I was ten," he said, laying his first card down on top of hers. "Well, a while before that, but I wasn't diagnosed until I was ten. And it took a lot before they figured it out, it's weird for a kid that little to have Crohn's." He flipped a ten to match hers and slapped the pile before she noticed.

She rolled her eyes at him as he picked up the cards. "How'd they figure it out?" she asked.

"Music class, in the fifth grade," he said. "My teacher hated me, so when I asked to go to the bathroom, she told me that I could wait until class was over. But one of the things that happens with Crohn's is, well…" He shrugged, playing a card quickly and not looking up at Astrid. "So it happens, and I'm just sitting there while the kids around me start making fun of me and shouting, and then this one girl started screaming 'it's blood, it's blood'. So...then they had to call an ambulance because I was peeing blood, and I ended up passing out, and Mrs. Hammond was screaming at everybody- she ended up getting in a lot of trouble with the school for that, so that turned out okay. But the hospital couldn't figure out what was wrong with me, so they were just going to send me home, but my dad flipped out." He grinned as he slapped down on the pile of cards before Astrid again; she scowled and slammed down her next card. "And my dad's huge. Like...pushing seven feet tall, built like a house. So when he started yelling, they started running every test they could think of. And bam. It was Crohn's."

Astrid managed to slap down on the next set of doubles a split second before he did and grinned in victory. Hiccup resisted the urge to fidget nervously; her fingers were soft and cool under his. "So what do they do with you?" she asked. "Like...is there a cure?"

"Nope," he said, smirking as he laid down a jack. She laid down a queen and smirked right back. "I have to watch what I eat, avoid getting stressed. And losing blood so much made me anemic, so I have to take iron. But other than that, there's not much. Basically I function as best as I can until I can't."

Astrid placed her next card down slowly, her expression turning thoughtful. "That sucks," she said. "Is it...is it scary?"

"Is what scary?" he asked.

"You know," she hedged. "Being sick all the time. Not knowing what's going to happen next." She bit her lip. "If one of those tests they're running on me comes back positive-"

He nudged her lightly. "Hey, don't think like that," he said. "You're probably fine. People have freak seizures all the time. Haven't you seen ER reruns?" She shook her head, a slight grin returning to her face. "Besides, it's not...it's not really that scary. We've done this enough we've got it down to a science."

"We?"

"My parents," he said, nodding his head towards the picture on his nightstand. "They're pretty good at this sort of stuff now."

Astrid crawled over him to get a better look at the photo. "Only child, huh?" she said. "I hate you. My older brothers are a nightmare." She looked up at him, appraising his face critically. "You look like your mom."

"I get that a lot," he said, craning his neck to look at the photo. They'd taken it last fall, sitting on the front steps of the porch, orange and red and yellow leaves littering the grass at their feet. He sat on the step below his parents, settled safely between them with his mother's arm around his chest and his father's hand on his shoulder. He really did look like his mom- the same chin, the same hair, the same mouth- although he had his dad's nose, which Stoick was fond of pointing out.

"Why aren't they with you?" Astrid asked.

"They're working," he said. "My dad's a contractor and my mom's a history professor. Department chair, actually. So they can't really get out of work that easily."

"Same with my parents," Astrid said, a tad wistfully. "I mean, not the same jobs. But still."

Hiccup set his cards aside. "Pause the game, I have to go to the bathroom," he said. He slid off the edge of the bed, his knees shaking as his feet touched the floor.

"Do...do you need any help?" Astrid asked tentatively as he reached for his IV pole to brace himself.

"I'm fine," he said, a little too sharply. "Just don't cheat while I'm gone."

"You've just met me, how dare you accuse me of cheating?" she said. He snickered as he hobbled away.

He had been starting to feel too hot with his legs under the blankets, but now he felt like he was going to freeze to death. Goosebumps erupted up and down his arms and he had to clench his teeth to keep from chattering. And worse, he felt like he might possibly throw up.

_If I don't throw up, I can go home, _he chanted to himself. _If I don't throw up, I can go home._

He stumbled back into the room, bracing himself on his IV pole as his socked feet slid on the tile floor. Astrid didn't even look up. She'd stacked the cards back and was flipping through his DVD wallet. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Seeing what movies you have," she said.

Hiccup crawled back into bed, the IV tubing tugging at his right arm. "Am I that bad at ratslap?" he asked.

Astrid flicked to the next disc. "My headache's back," she said quietly.

Hiccup paused. "Oh," he said. "I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "Hopefully they'll figure out what's wrong with me," she said. She pulled a movie out. "Star Wars all right with you?"

"Yeah," he said, settling back against the pillows as she slid off the bed and fiddled with the DVD player. "I like how you've just moved into my room."

"You have no idea how bored I've been this week," she said. She turned the TV on, picked up the remote, and climbed back into bed beside him. "Are you feeling okay? You look pale. Well, more pale, I guess."

"I've been hospitalized, do you expect me to look like a supermodel?" he snorted. She punched him lightly in the shoulder and settled down beside him.

He had never been this close to a girl before. She was soft and warm beside him, and all he could smell was the scent of her green apple shampoo. Hiccup sat extremely still, trying not to get too close, but clearly Astrid didn't have any of the same thoughts, because by the time Darth Vader had captured Princess Leia she was pressed up close to him, her arms folded across her stomach and her head leaning against his shoulder. Gradually he started to relax. Her warmth soaked into him, stilling the shivers still wracking his frame, and he pulled his fleece blanket over both of them.

They watched the movie in silence, both of them taking turns to doze off, and Astrid got up to switch from A New Hope to Empire Strikes Back when the credits started to roll. She immediately took her spot beside him again, and even though he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was small and gawky and all elbows and knees, he kind of thought that she fit perfectly.

Not like he would ever say anything about it, though.

They had just gotten to the scene where Han was carving open the tauntaun when the door opened. Astrid, already dozing off again, gave a start. "Oh god, there's a giant in your room," she said, knuckling at her eyes.

"No, it's just my dad," Hiccup said.

Stoick walked into the room, his mouth screwing up in confusion. "Hiccup, who's your friend?" he asked.

"This is Astrid," Hiccup said. She waved. "She's in the room next door. She came over to yell at me for hogging the bathroom and now she's moved in."

"Well, at least you're making friends," Stoick said. He touched the back of his hand to Hiccup's forehead. "You're still burning up."

"I'm working on it," Hiccup sighed. "They said I can go home when my fever's gone and I haven't thrown up in twenty-four hours."

"I know, I talked to your doctor before I came in here," Stoick said. He sat down in the chair beside Hiccup's bed, then paused. "Oh. I can't believe I forgot." He reached into his coat and pulled out a small lump of black fluff. "He was hiding in here. Don't know how that happened."

"Toothless!" Hiccup said, reaching for his pet. Toothless bounded across the bed to him, meowing joyfully, and curled up on his stomach.

"Oh, he's so cute," Astrid cooed, scratching Toothless behind the ears.

Stoick grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "Don't let the nurses know," he said. Hiccup nodded, settling back against his pillows as Toothless began to purr. "He's been moping around the house looking for you. Figured I'd let him visit."

"Thanks, Dad," Hiccup said, smoothing his hand over Toothless's soft silky fur.

Stoick stayed with them for the rest of the movie. He didn't say much, but occasionally he reached over to touch Hiccup's elbow lightly, as if to reassure himself that he was still there. Toothless sprawled across Hiccup's belly, purring like a racecar engine, and the warmth soaked into his bones.

By the time the movie was finished Toothless was asleep on his lap and Astrid was asleep against his shoulder. Hiccup was fighting back sleep himself, his eyes trying to close on their own accord. "You look worn out," Stoick said, his hand warm and heavy on Hiccup's shoulder.

"Why do people keep saying that to me?" Hiccup sighed.

Stoick stood up. "I'd better get your cat home before the nurses catch me," he said. He grinned. "We don't want a repeat of last time."

"Yeah, that was a mess," Hiccup said.

Stoick ruffled Hiccup's hair. "Your mom's going to stay the night with you, if that's all right," he said. "She's got that lecture for the department fundraiser tonight, but she told me to tell you she'll come straight here when she's done." Hiccup nodded. Stoick scooped up Toothless in one arm; the sleeping cat snuffled and coiled around his elbow. "You just focus on getting better, all right?"

"I'll try," Hiccup said. His father smiled at him and squeezed his elbow, then tucked Toothless under his coat. Hiccup settled back against his pillows, feeling oddly empty. Astrid let out a little snore as her head pressed deeper into his shoulder; after a pause he leaned his cheek against her bright blonde hair and sighed deeply.

It was a good thing his dad left when he did- a nurse walked in ten minutes later with a disapproving look on her face. "Astrid, what are you doing in here?" she asked. "You should be in your own room."

Astrid bolted upright, knocking her head against Hiccup's chin. He recoiled with a grunt. "I was bored and he had movies," she said, her voice still thick with sleep.

The nurse beckoned to her. "Go back to your room, sweetie, I think they're getting ready for some bloodwork," she said.

Astrid sighed. "Not more of that," she said, but she reluctantly swung her legs over the side of the bed. "See you, Hiccup."

"Bye," he said, pulling the blankets up to his shoulders now that he was bereft of both her warmth and Toothless's. The nurse looked over his IV, switching in a new bag of saline solution for the empty one, and checked his vitals.

"Your fever's still holding steady," she warned. "Are you still feeling nauseous?"

"Not really anymore," he lied.

"Scale of one to ten, how bad?"

"Five, maybe."

She seemed satisfied with his answer. "Hopefully you'll be back home soon," she said. She patted his arm. "Just keep resting. Let us know if you need anything."

He gritted his teeth and nodded. For god's sake, he was trying. He was trying as hard as he could.

She left him alone and he forced himself out of bed long enough to put in the last Star Wars movie. He dozed on and off in five and ten minute stretches, barely paying attention to what was happening on the screen. At least he'd seen it a million times before.

He got up to go to the bathroom, dragging his IV pole behind him. The door that led to Astrid's room was unlocked, but when he peeked inside it was dark and empty, the blankets still rumpled where she'd left them. He almost felt disappointed.

The movie wasn't quite over, but he was too tired to keep watching, even though it was still a little light outside. He switched off the TV and pulled the blankets up to his ears, trying to forcibly still the fever chills running through his limbs. Nausea still tugged at him, but he closed his eyes tightly, hugged the fleece blanket that smelled like home against his chest, and forced himself to fall asleep.

He woke up surrounded in darkness, and it felt like his body was being ripped in half.

His fingers scrabbled to grip his blanket, his knuckles going white as he braced himself against the cramps clutching at his stomach. He flexed his legs, trying to relieve some of the pressure bearing down on him. It felt like something was crushing him.

Nausea raced through his system, making the back of his throat spasm, and he stumbled out of bed, the darkened room tilting drunkenly around him as he leaned on his IV pole to stay upright. He couldn't stand up straight; he had to hunch over to keep the clenching pains from snapping him in two.

He hobbled into the bathroom, his head spinning. _If you're going to throw up, at least make sure they don't find out, _he thought, his fingers slipping on the slick metal of the IV pole. He let go long enough to fumble for the light switch, but he misjudged the distance. His vision blurred, dizziness drowned him, and he closed his eyes for just a second.

He opened them to find the bathroom lights blaring, harsh and bright white. There was a weird sound echoing in his ears, weak and whining, and he realized it was coming from the back of his throat. Cool hands pressed against his cheeks. "Hiccup?" a voice said- a girl's voice, panicked and tight. "Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

He forced himself to turn his head towards the voice. Astrid knelt over him anxiously, her long hair swinging over her shoulder. She pressed her hand to his cheek, her thumb smoothing nervously along his cheekbone. "I heard a crash, I think you blacked out," she said. "I'm going to call a nurse."

"No," he said, his tongue clumsy. "No, 'm okay."

She was pale, her eyes wide. "You're not, Hiccup, you passed out and you're burning up and-"

"Just help me get back to bed and I'll be fine," he pleaded. To prove his point he grabbed her arm and pulled himself into a sitting position. Pain pulsed in his left temple; he must have hit the floor pretty hard when he fell. The urge to throw up burned sharply in the back of this throat. "I'm fine, I promise."

She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. "Fine," she snapped, reaching for his other arm. She recoiled. "You pulled your IV out when you fell, you're bleeding!"

He looked down and instantly regretted it. Blood dripped down his arm and fell in fat drops on the white tile floor. "It'll stop in a second," he lied. "I just want to lie down."

Astrid wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him to his feet. His knees buckled and he grabbed onto her shirt sleeve to stay upright. It took everything in him to drag one foot behind the other as she helped him hobble from the stark light of the bathroom back to his bed. A cold sweat prickled on his bare arms and he shivered in Astrid's grip. She rubbed his side lightly as she supported him back to his bed and gave him a gentle push to fall back in.

"Thanks," he said, his teeth chattering. He breathed slowly through his mouth, exhaling in a slow sigh, trying to play it off as normal.

Astrid switched on the lamp on his bedside table; the soft yellow glow lit her hair into an angel's halo. "You don't look so good," she said. "Why can't I call a nurse?"

"Because I want to go home," he said, reaching for his blankets with shaking hands. Blood pulsed down his arm with every beat of his heart; he clamped his other hand over the wound. "I'm okay. I'll be okay…"

He coughed, panic swelling in his chest as his stomach clenched, and he threw up, tasting hot copper. Astrid punched the call button four times in quick succession, her lips pressed together in a thin white line, and folded her arms across her chest. "Astrid, no, I'm okay!" he said, swiping at his mouth, and she shook her head, fear shining in her eyes. "I'm okay, I just want to-"

This time nausea hit him so hard he jerked forward, vomiting scarlet over the scratchy hospital blanket. The back of his throat burned like he'd been set on fire. Astrid grabbed his upper arm as he swayed, her fingers locking into his skin.

A nurse walked in, seemingly unconcerned. "Hi, there, everything all right?" he asked, but he stopped. Hiccup retched again, trying to cover his mouth with his hand, but blood spilled over his fingers. Astrid grabbed his other hand, gripping so tightly her knuckles whitened.

Suddenly his room was too bright and too loud and there were far too many people surrounding him. He whined through his teeth, trying to focus on the grounding reassurance of Astrid's cool hand holding his. He had to focus on that. Nothing was real except for Astrid holding his hand.

"I heard him fall," Astrid was explaining to the nurse pressing gauze to the torn wound on his arm where the IV tubing had ripped out. "He wasn't conscious when I found him but he said he wanted to go back to bed and then he threw up."

The room spun around him like a tilt-a-whirl. He closed his eyes and he could still feel his bed rocking unsteadily. "Can you tell me how bad the pain is?" the nurse asked him. "Hadley? Scale of one to ten, how bad?"

"Seven," he choked out, squeezing Astrid's hand hard as his stomach cramped.

He didn't even know how many people were working over him, but there was a constant rushed press of hands, poking and prodding. He made himself focus on Astrid. She said nothing, but he cracked open his eyes long enough to look at her sitting beside his bed, her face stark white as she silently gripped his hand.

They pulled his blood-soaked shirt off, leaving him shivering against the sudden cold. A nurse got out a clean hospital johnny to replace it, but when he coughed hard and had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep from throwing up again, she set it down and forced him to lie on his side. He closed his eyes, breathing in heavy gasps to brace himself against the steady waves of cramps. Someone took his arm and wrapped a thick layer of bandages around the wound from the IV. Everyone was talking at once, their voices blurring in his ears. He just wanted to go to sleep and wake up feeling like a human again.

Astrid leaned over him, her silky hair brushing his cheek. "It's okay," she whispered in his ear.

He squeezed her hand back weakly. "Thanks, Astrid," he whispered back.

But unfortunately, that caught their attention. "Astrid?" one of the nurses said, sounding surprised. "Sweetie, you can't be in here. You've got to go to your own room."

"No, I'm staying," she argued. She squeezed Hiccup's hand in both of hers. "I won't leave him."

"It's not your room, though," the nurse said. "And you're not a family member. You've got to go."

"No, I won't, I'm won't leave," Astrid shouted, but Hiccup felt her fingers slipping through his. "No! No, you can't make me! You don't understand! You don't know what it's like for us, I can't leave him alone!"

He opened his eyes to see a nurse forcibly pulling Astrid out of the room, the girl struggling in her grip. His heart sank. The door closed. He was alone.

Nobody was explaining what was happening. Everyone was talking at once. He coughed again, blood flecking his chin, and he weakly rubbed it away with a shaking hand. His throat was burning. His whole body throbbed with pain and every time someone moved him around it flared like fire. An ice-cold alcohol patch was swiped against his upper arm and a needle stabbed into his skin; he let out a terrified yelp.

"What are you doing?" he tried to shout, but it came out garbled and thick, and no one paid any attention to him. A hot tear slipped down his cheek. He wanted to go home. He wanted to die. He wanted the door to open and Astrid to come back.

The door opened, but it wasn't Astrid.

His mother stood in the doorway, still dressed in the simple black dress she always wore when she gave lectures, her long hair caught in a loose knot at the nape of her neck. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the scene in one quick glance.

Hiccup pushed himself up, his arms shaking with the effort. "Mom?" he said, his voice quavering.

A nurse tried to force him back down but Valka beat her to it, sitting down on the edge of Hiccup's bed and pulling him to her chest. Hiccup buried his face in her shoulder; she smelled like clean laundry and honey and the perfume Stoick had gotten her for Christmas last year and it was such a familiar thing that a sob broke from his throat and he didn't even care. "It's all right, baby," Valka murmured, smoothing her fingers through his hair. She looked up at the nurses. "What happened?"

Hiccup curled up against her, pushing back against the cramps threatening to tear him in two. His mother listened intently, her fingers tangled in his hair. "We're going to do an ultrasound to see if we can pinpoint what's causing the bleeding," the nurse was saying, but Hiccup couldn't hear her. He felt the familiar, horrible clutch at the back of his throat and threw up again. There wasn't much left in his stomach; he spat up a thin stream of blood and bile that dribbled down his chin. Valka picked up a tissue from the box on the nightstand and wiped it away gently. She tilted his chin to look into his eyes, then leaned him back against her shoulder. He focused on the warm steady beat of Valka's heart against his ear. He was still cold, he was still hurting, he was still scared, but his mother's arms were warm and tight around him.

An orderly brought in the portable ultrasound machine and Hiccup whimpered in protest as Valka leaned away from him. "You need to lie down on your back, sweetheart," she said, supporting his weight. She cursed under her breath. "They should have done the CT scan when you came in last night. Oh, your dad is going to be so angry." He sank back against his pillow, biting back a shiver. She smoothed his hair back from his forehead. "You're still too hot."

"I'm cold, though," he said. He'd been stripped down to just his pajama pants, and he could see goosebumps rising on his bare skin. A nurse squirted the freezing ultrasound gel on his belly and he yelped.

"You know this won't take long, love, just lie still," Valka said, taking his cold stiff hand in hers and breathing on his knuckles to warm them. The nurse moved the ultrasound wand across his skin; Hiccup watched the screen and tried to make sense of the black and gray splotches.

"It looks like there's an obstruction," the nurse said. "Right...there."

Panic flared in Hiccup's chest. He hadn't had one before, but he'd been warned over and over again that it was a possibility. Valka squeezed his hand. "So what are you going to do to make him better?" she asked, her voice sharp.

"The best option is putting in a nasogastric tube. It'll relieve pressure and stop his cramps and his vomiting, and it'll eventually clear the blockage."

"Are there any other options?" Valka asked.

"Not really."

Hiccup made himself sit up, grabbing onto Valka's arm to brace himself. "Mom, no," he pleaded. "Please, I just want to go home." He couldn't stop himself from shivering, his hand shaking in her grip. "Mom, don't make me, I don't-"

Nausea suddenly swelled in the pit of his stomach, making him dizzy. Valka let go of his hand and caught him around his chest before he fell forward. He let out a startled whine as his vision went blurry for a split second. "It's all right, it's all right," she said, picking up his discarded fleece blanket and shaking it out before wrapping it around him. He huddled against her, hiding his face against her collarbone and pulling the blanket around his ears.

He let his mother talk to the nurses, the vibrations of her voice low and soothing even if he was blocking out what she was saying. She rubbed his back in smooth gentle strokes, the way she used to when he was little and woke up with nightmares. He felt like a little kid again, hiding against Valka's shoulder, and he closed his eyes, feeling calmer and safer than he'd felt in a while. It was enough to make him feel like he could fall asleep, even with the pain still pulsing in his gut, and he started to drift off.

Valka tugged the blanket back. "You have to sit up, sweetheart," she said. "Come on."

"Mom, please," he said one last time, halfheartedly. She shook her head and adjusted his pillow behind his back.

The nurse took a length of thin flexible plastic tubing and measured it against him. Hiccup gritted his teeth. Valka took his hand again, smoothing her fingertips up and down his inner arm. Ordinarily that would calm him down, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

The nurse coated the end of the tubing with an analgesic gel. "All right, Hadley, I need you to stay very still for me," she said. Hiccup flinched; Valka cupped her hand around the back of his neck.

The gel was cold against his skin. The tubing slid through his nose and down the back of his throat. He whined, the noise breaking off into a half-sob, and he grabbed at his mother's arm in a death grip.

The nurse made him tilt his chin towards his chest. "Keep swallowing for me, okay, that'll help it go down easier," she said.

Nothing was going to make this easier. He dug his fingernails into Valka's arm and bit down on his lower lip until the nurse stopped threading the tube. "There," she said. She taped the tubing in place against his cheek. "Now don't touch it, okay? I'll be right back, we're going to start up a new IV for you."

Hiccup stayed very still, painfully aware of the tube sliding against the back of his throat. Valka touched the pad of her thumb to his lower lip and brushed away a tiny drop of blood; he hadn't even realized he'd bitten his lip that hard. "Breathe, love," she murmured. He nodded and tried to obey.

The nurse came back in and set him up with a new IV, this time in his left arm instead of his right. He felt so limp and dizzy that he didn't even fight it, allowing her to hook him up without a bit of protest. Valka held his hand in silence, her thumbs massaging his fingers. He focused on the ring on her left hand instead of the needle plunging into his arm, watching the lights flickering on the half a ruby heart winking on the gold band. Long ago it had been a whole heart hanging on a filigree chain; now she wore half and Stoick wore the other.

"I'm going to give you something to help you sleep along with the painkillers and the antiemetic," the nurse said, taking up a syringe and injecting it into the port in his IV. "You haven't gotten any sleep tonight and you won't get better if you don't get your rest." She added the other two injections carefully. "We'll keep monitoring the obstruction to make sure it's clearing properly. And we'll test to see if you need a blood transfusion." She patted Hiccup's shoulder. "Now you get some sleep."

Hiccup sagged back against the pillow as the nurse left and the cold saline began to drip into his vein. Valka stood up, letting go of his hand gently. "You're freezing," she said. She picked up the discarded hospital johnny and helped him put it on, buttoning it at the shoulders when his fingers proved too clumsy. When he was dressed again she tucked him in, smoothing his covers and draping the fleece blanket over him. "I'm going to get changed, okay? I'll be right back."

"Okay," he said. His lips felt numb.

Valka switched off the overhead light, leaving the soft warmth of the bedside lamp, and picked up the bag she'd dropped by the door before disappearing into the bathroom. Hiccup folded his hands carefully over his lower ribcage, breathing cautiously against the constant waves of cramps as he waited for the painkillers to kick in. But exhaustion and pain and dehydration gnawed at him still, throbbing all the way down to his bones, and his fever left him shivering.

Whatever the nurse had given him to help him sleep was starting to work, but not fast enough. He squinted into the dark corners of the room, not entirely sure if there was actually a person standing there or if he was hallucinating. The blurry person shape shifted as he stared- there might have been claws, or a mouth, or a face. He couldn't tell. Inexplicable panic rose in his chest.

"Mom?" he called tentatively.

The fuzzy shape melted, pooling on the floor, and Hiccup drew his knees up. The puddle became a flock of scorpions, skittering across the slick tile in a black mass, and he gasped for breath. "Mom!" he called, a little louder.

Valka walked out of the bathroom and draped her badly wrinkled black dress over the arm of the sleeper couch. She'd changed into yoga pants and a tank top from their trip to Colorado last summer, and she was still pulling bobby pins from the rumpled chignon at the nape of her neck. "Are you all right?" she asked.

He couldn't answer. The scorpions were swelling and multiplying, coiling around the bedframe as they marched en masse towards him. "Mom!" he screamed, scrabbling away from the insects. "Mama!"

Valka was beside him in a second. "What's wrong, honey?" she asked as he flung himself against her, closing his eyes tightly and burying his face in her collarbone. "Hiccup, what is it?"

He tried to answer, but it came out in an incoherent babble. "Hadley!" she said sharply, and her could hear the note of fear in her voice. "You have to tell me what's wrong!"

"Scorpions," he gasped. "Seeing scorpions."

He felt her relax, the moment of panic subsiding. "You're just seeing things, baby, there's nothing there," she said gently, stroking her hand over his hair. "Nothing at all, I promise. You're safe." He whimpered into her neck. "Breathe, sweetheart. Just breathe."

He obeyed, matching her inhales and exhales as she stroked his back. The horrible clicking of the scorpions' claws faded in his ears. She was right. There was nothing there.

"How bad are you feeling?" she asked.

He thought about lying, but he couldn't do it anymore. "Nine," he whispered, his voice hoarse against the tube. "It's a nine."

Valka pressed her hand to the back of his head. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. He leaned against her, letting his arms fall limply at his side. "Can you stay with me?" he mumbled.

"I already promised I would stay."

"No, I mean…" He took a deep breath. "Mom, I'm scared."

Valka kissed his temple and he knew she understood what he was trying to say. She laid down beside him, adjusting pillows and blankets, and he snuggled beside her, letting out a long slow breath.

When he was a toddler he used to sleep between his parents, safe from all the monsters under his bed when he had his father's warm snoring bulk on one side and his mother's slim arms holding him on the other. Nearly every night he fell asleep with his thumb in his mouth and his other hand holding onto his mother's ruby necklace. And then when he was three his mother had vanished and his father didn't seem to sleep at all, and he had to sleep in his own room, in his narrow twin bed with the dinosaur sheets and the monsters lurking underneath. His mother came back when he was six, thinner and paler and full of hesitant apologies and shy smiles, and while both he and his father were overjoyed to have her back, it wasn't the same, and he didn't go back to sleeping in their bed again. It didn't happen again, in fact, until the night he was diagnosed. That night his mother had laid down beside him in his hospital bed without a word, nestling him in her arms like he was her baby again, and his father sat on the other side, keeping vigil. Now he rarely asked for it, but sometimes he just needed to know that she was there and she wasn't going to leave again.

Hiccup pressed close to his mother's side, his breathing falling into an easy pattern as the painkillers began to course through his bloodstream. Valka's long dark hair had slipped free from the pins, falling over the pillow and tickling his shoulder. "I'll stay, baby," she murmured. "I'll stay right here."

She stroked the soft bare skin of his belly under the hospital-issue shirt, soothing the dull ache that still gripped him. The painkiller and the sleep aid pulled at him, dragging him down into a thick sleep, but his mother's steady touch kept him safe and grounded, and he finally drifted off into exhausted sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

AHHH FEELINGS.

Hiccup is a mess. Poor little love. And Astrid's not so hot herself, but she's a little more put together than he is, in any case! And together they're adorable. Sweet little boo bears, to quote Caroline.

Also, Valka. Valka is the best. No matter what's going on, Valka is always the best. And Hiccup really needs her. He's usually pretty independent, but when he's this sick, all he wants is his mama. I think that's true for everybody, no matter what age you are.

And I have such a backstory for modern!AU Valka and how life went for Stoick and Hiccup and I think I might need to write that as its own story. Because Valka is a badass, but at the same time, she's stressed and dealing with severe post partum depression (which I think she deals with in canon too) and raurgh, I have more feelings.

But yeah.

I hope you liked this! Let me know what you think! Or go to my tumblr (themetaphorgirl) and prompt things, if you'd like!


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